My stomach is twisting from the contact, and it’s longing for it again.
My lashes flutter, lips parting slightly as I take in one short breath. I don’t know what kind of look I’m giving Nathan right now, but I’m pretty sure the desire is written all over my face.
Swallowing, his Adam’s apple shifting up and down in the sexiest way, Nathan slowly moves his hand over to me again, the back of it skating over my nipple again. His tongue darts across his bottom lip before he asks, “Is this okay?”
“Yes,” I immediately say, and I arch my back so my tits are higher.
His hand moves again, the sensation causing my entire body to flame. I’m soaking through my shorts, and I attempt to keep my breathing steady as I re-focus my eyes to see Nathan staring at me with furrowed brows.
“Fuck, Mae,” he says huskily. “What are you doing to me?”
I release a whimper in response, eyes turning half-lidded. He curses, and when I drop my eyes, I can see the outline of his hard dick against his pyjama pants. His verybig, hard dick.
We should stop. I know we should. But I have tunnel vision right now. All I see is Nathan. And all I want is his hands on my body. Everywhere.
Nothing has ever felt this good, and all he’s doing is teasing my tits.
I tip my head back, my tongue feeling heavy inside my mouth.
All that can be heard in the room is my short breaths, and after a couple more strokes, Nathan pulls away. “I’m not taking this any further with you in a hotel room like you’re some fling. I respect you more than that, Mae.”
I gulp but eventually nod in understanding, taking a deep breath before I pull the comforter up over my flaming body as I compose myself. However, a small giggle slips from my lips. “Now who can’t keep their hands to themselves?”
18: Nathan
My helmet feels too tight on my head, squeezing my skull and compressing my thoughts. All I see is the ball—honing in on its position and where it’s heading. The Medford Heroes are losing by eight points, which relieves me, but I know how quickly things can change. We need to stay focused.
Except I can’t.
Because my head continues to snap to last night when Mae was in my bed, whimpering for me. She’d begged me to touch her with her eyes, and I knew that if we were to go any further, we wouldn’t be able to stop.
I’d still been so hard this morning thinking about it that when she left, I had to jerk off in the shower with her name lingering on my lips.
She’d managed to slip out of my room and back into hers, and when Madison opened the door for her, Mae lied aboutwhenexactly she’d gone down to reception and realised she’d forgotten her key. As far as Madison knew, she’d only been gone a few minutes.
Adrenaline soars through me as I watch one of the opposition's quarterbacks fling the ball, sending it spiralling perfectly into his teammate’s grasp. Their players move like a well-oiled machine, but Evan is fast, and he tackles the guy to the ground.
We’ve been playing well lately, but as the games go on, our opponents keep getting better. It’s making me nervous.
The referee’s whistle sounds, indicating the second fifteen-minute quarter has ended. There’s a twelve-minute halftime break, and our cheerleaders are due to perform. Most of the team heads down the tunnel towards the locker rooms, but Bennett and I stick around.
I want to watch Mae’s performance. I know she’s nervous.
I want her back in my bed. It’s going to feel lonely tonight without her. The soft rise and fall of her chest when asleep was both comforting and torturous. Every instinct in me begged to reach out and touch her again. I couldn’t stop staring at her. Her tits in that slinky tank top. Her midriff slightly on show, tanned and toned. The curve of her ass underneath her frilly shorts.
But the weight of reality is burdensome.
This girl has the ability to fucking ruin me.
And my life.
I had wanted to savour the moment. I haven't had a woman in my bed for a long time—not that I’d missed it—but having Mae so close to me was different. It feltright.And yet, our contracts tell us it’s wrong.
She’d opened up to me about her father, and I know how hard that was for her. She showed me the reason behind that fake confidence. The jutted-out chin and puffed chest. The sassy comments. The narrowed eyes.
It wasn’t just because of Renee.
It makes sense now, and I realise that Mae Bexley is nothing like her mother. She’s not the princess I initially believed her to be—although the nickname has stuck.
